


Desperate Measures: More Honey – Less Vinegar

by andafaith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dubious Consent, Edging, F/M, Hand Jobs, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, Oral Sex, Sex, tease and denial
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6834931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andafaith/pseuds/andafaith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone knows that you can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. When Tom Riddle appears one day and everyone fails at getting him to admit how he got there, Luna thinks that she can get the answers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desperate Measures: More Honey – Less Vinegar

**Author's Note:**

> This little fic is set during _Deathly Hallows_ , during Luna’s stay at Shell Cottage. It was prompted to me by my boyfriend to write as a gift and I must say that it was incredibly fun – if a little nerve-wracking – to write. I’ve never written this pairing or in Luna’s POV before, but it was interesting to explore. I hope you enjoy it!
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including – but not limited to – Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Additionally, I do not own the word ‘Snarfblatt’ – that belongs to Disney.

  
  
**Desperate Measures:**  
**More Honey – Less Vinegar**  
  
**_.^._.^._.^._**

They had no idea why or _how_ he was there.  
  
The locket was fine. It was assuredly a horcrux up until the point where Ron Weasley smashed it with the venomous edge of the Gryffindor Sword.  
  
Hermione had rigorously checked him for time-turners or time-travel devices.  
  
Polyjuice and glamours would have worn off by now.  
  
Yet, Tom Riddle, _himself_ – and _not_ someone simply posing as him – had shown up one day, completely naked and laying unconscious in the snow outside of Harry and Hermione’s well-warded tent.  
  
It didn’t happen on any special day either – sometime between the Winter Solstice and New Years – and definitely not on Tom Riddle’s birthday. Just an ordinary winter day with no special meaning attached to it.  
  
The Rotfang Conspiracy couldn’t even explain a situation like this, nor could any other conspiracy that Luna understood or had heard of.  
  
It was exceedingly odd.  
  
And, from what Harry, Hermione, and Ron had told her, Luna came to the conclusion that Tom Riddle wasn’t a very cooperative person; he could also be extremely unkind. She couldn’t blame him though. From the moment that Harry and Hermione discovered him, he had spent most of his time bound – tied up – sometimes to a chair, or tied to the bed inside of Hermione’s beaded bag.  
  
Luna knew that _she_ would be quite uncooperative and a little disagreeable if she spent months bound in magical ropes.  
  
And Tom Riddle had no reprieve even while staying at Shell Cottage. He had gotten his own place, which was nice – a large shed that Fleur Weasley used to experiment with Charms, for the book she was writing – but he was constantly bound. It was no wonder he wouldn’t talk to them properly.  
  
Regardless, they kept trying to get answers out of him. Why was he there? How was he possible? How did he get through their wards? Was he sent to spy on them?  
  
He didn’t answer a single one. The only things that they were able to get out of him were derogatory and presumptuous, but surprisingly accurate – even if rude – comments and observations. Ron was considering torture to get answers out of the young Dark Lord and even _Harry_ was on the verge of agreeing to it.  
  
It was strange, really, because didn’t one catch more flies with honey than with vinegar? Why would they think that torture would be any more effective than what they were doing to him now?  
  
Of course, Hermione always saw reason, as did Luna, and they barred the two from doing anything to Tom.  
  
They only needed answers – very simple answers – but the three didn’t have much time to devote to it. They had to carry out Dumbledore’s special mission, and that was largely why, one week into staying at Shell Cottage, Luna volunteered to get those answers in the middle of dinner.  
  
Amid the delicious stew that Fleur prepared, she asked, “May I question Tom Riddle for you? I think I have an idea of how to approach him and you’ve all been so awfully busy with Griphook.”  
  
Naturally, there were protests. Luna had seen them coming; Gibblybats were flying about the room in anticipation, warning her – they were attracted to disagreements. Their special magic even started filling her head with bias toward her own opinion at one point and it was all very frustrating.  
  
In the end though, it was Bill Weasley who overcame them, rationalizing, “It’s not like you lot have much to lose with him! He won’t give any of _us_ answers – so if he doesn’t give _her_ any answers then you’ll be in the same position you are now. And, with your magic-binding ropes, Hermione, he won’t be a danger – you _know_ he won’t!” He paused to take a breath, shrugging and repeating, “We’ve _nothing_ to lose.”  
  
And they really didn’t.  
  
They eventually agreed.

  
  
**_.^._.^._.^._**

  
  
The first thing Luna did was take Tom Riddle out for a walk. His hands were still tied behind his back; she couldn’t get around the binding rule and she understood why they kept him bound – they didn’t want him to escape – but he deserved _some_ sort of freedom.  
  
On their walk, she showed him the nest of Nargles in the bushes and the Voozles crawling on the stems of the budding wildflowers in the ditch along the path. He wasn’t very pleasant with her when she explained what each creature did and what their purpose was. But it was expected that he would call her a loony, especially after she shared her Specrespecs with him and pointed out the Wrackspurts that were buzzing around his head.  
  
Everyone liked to call her a ‘loony’ of some sort when she did that – she blamed disbelief.  
  
“It’s _dust_ , I don’t need _magnifying glasses_ to see that; now would you get these bloody things off of me?”  
  
Luna remained undeterred, staring up at him with her wide silvery eyes. “They’re Wrackspurts. Just focus – you can see their little wings.”  
  
His mouth flattened into a stern line. “That’s _pollen_ , not _wings_ , you inane little girl. It’s spring.”  
  
“You’re not looking close enough.” She took the Spectraspecs off of him and placed them over her face. “I can see them perfectly fine. Perhaps you need your eyes checked.”  
  
“Yes, ‘ _I’m_ the one who needs my eyes checked,’ says the _loony_ ,” he retorted, rolling his eyes. A Gibblybat was flapping around next to his ear.  
  
“It’s not very nice to call someone that,” Luna commented, continuing on their walk. “Sanity is a matter of perspective. To some people, you’re probably a loony too.” She grabbed at the sleeve of his button down shirt to urge him to walk with her.  
  
Pulling away from her grasp with a sharp twist, he sighed and asked, “Can I have the girl with the bird’s nest back? She was only _half_ as irritating.”  
  
“No. She’s been very busy,” Luna answered distractedly, staring off at a Voozle that was scaling the side of a tree, “so I volunteered to care for you instead.”  
  
Tom’s eyes narrowed. “And why, pray tell?”  
  
“You catch more flies with honey than you do vinegar.” Luna looked back at him, removing her Spectraspecs and tucking them over the neck of her shirt. “They were going to torture you.”  
  
Letting out a huff of laughter, he dryly replied, “Are you certain they haven’t already started?”  
  
“Have they?”  
  
“You’re not very bright, are you?” His nose scrunched up in distaste.  
  
“On the contrary. I’m in Ravenclaw, you know.”  
  
A sneer crept over his upper lip. “I was insinuating that they’re trying to torture me by allowing _you_ to ‘care for me’.”  
  
“Oh, I know -” She blinked owlishly, her eyes trailing to the miniscule Wrackspurt that landed on his cheek. “- but I wasn’t referring to that. Ron Weasley wanted to use the Cruciatus Curse.”  
  
“ _Let_ him. I’d _prefer_ it.”  
  
“Hmm – you _would_ , wouldn’t you?” She stopped on the path to pick a bright yellow flower from the ditch. “You’re more afraid of pleasure than pain, I think.”  
  
“I’m not afraid of _anything_.”  
  
But everyone was afraid of _something_.  
  
Fiddling with the flower between her fingers, she stuck it in the right pocket of her jeans, the little daisy-like head sticking out. “It’s just that you haven’t been able to take a walk in the sunshine for months, and you’re not even letting yourself enjoy it.”  
  
“Given the company I was presented with, how could I possibly _enjoy_ it?” he said quietly, his eyes narrowing.  
  
“You have a habit of making rude remarks when you start to feel powerless too,” Luna discerned, pressing her toes into the cool, dewy grass on the side of the path. She always loved the feel of that.  
  
“Have you any _more_ idiotic observations that you wish to share?” he purred dangerously.  
  
“None yet.” Tilting her head toward him and tugging at his sleeve to turn him around on the path, she said, “We should return to the cottage. Breakfast will be done soon; Fleur’s making waffles.”  
  
Tom just let out a huff of breath, closing his eyes for a second in obvious annoyance. It was likely over his shoes. They were charmed so his feet couldn’t move more than enough for him to walk and she had a feeling he wanted to kick her.  
  
Yet, during the walk back to the cottage, the Gibblybat flapping next to his ear flew off toward the rising sun. It made her think he was enjoying himself at least a little bit. It wouldn’t have done that if he wasn’t.

**_.^._.^._.^._**

It was a whole week into seeing after Tom Riddle. She preferred ‘seeing after’ to ‘questioning’ because she hadn’t asked him any of the _important_ questions yet. It would have been premature to start with those right away.  
  
Already, she had taken him on their routine morning walk, let him read something that Hermione demanded to approve of before she gave it to him, and talked to him at length about various things he seemed to constantly disagree with, calling her ‘batty’, ‘mental’, and ‘loony’ the entire time.  
  
The Nargles must have gotten to him, closing his mind up to heavily veiled truths in the world. Maybe that was why You-Know-Who acted in the way he did.  
  
After her usual afternoon discussion with Tom, Ron approached her as Luna walked into the kitchen, with Hermione trailing behind him. “Have you gotten him to answer anything yet?” he asked, shifting from his left foot to his right.  
  
Her Spectraspecs whirred as they focused in on the hoard of Wrackspurts swarming around his head.  
  
“Well, he’s not a fan of the Rotfang and Snarfblatt Conspiracies,” she said, thinking back to their conversation. “In fact, he found the ideas to be batty. He asked if ‘you got me from a funny farm’.”  
  
“I’m sorry about him,” Hermione said, her features softening as she frowned a little. “He’s… _always so_ -”  
  
“He only insults people because he believes it lets him take the power back,” Luna explained, waving off the apology with a gentle motion of her fingers. “And a funny farm sounds nice. Do they have those in the Muggle world? Does it have animals?”  
  
“Oh, Luna, a ‘funny farm’ is a way of saying… _mental_ institution,” she elaborated, worrying her bottom lip with the edge of her teeth.  
  
Maybe that was why Ron liked Hermione so much – she was always very considerate of other people.  
  
“That makes more sense.” Luna grinned, removing her Spectraspecs to look at the two Gryffindors normally, without all the built up magic soaring around them.  
  
“So…” Ron cut in, clearing his throat a little. “Any answers from him? To our questions?”  
  
Shaking her head gently, Luna replied, “I haven’t gotten to your questions yet.”  
  
The redhead’s brows furrowed. “What have you been doing with him all this time then?”  
  
“Talking to him – watching him.” She noticed the tiny Blibbering Humdinger crawling through Hermione’s thick bushy hair, probably trying to collect the loose strands for its dwelling in the rafters. They were infested.  
  
“Has he mentioned or done anything significant?” Hermione asked, leaning toward her intently.  
  
“No.” Luna traced her fingers over the lenses of her Spectraspecs, making a pattern of smudges. “He’s too smart for that, but I think I know how I can get the answers from him now.”  
  
Ron stared at her dumbfoundedly. “How?”  
  
“ _Honey_ – not much vinegar,” she answered, placing the Spectraspecs on top of her head. “I’m going to go ask Fleur if I can borrow one of her nightgowns. You should eat some Clarity Vine; Wrackspurts dislike the scent.”

**_.^._.^._.^._**

It was a fitting juxtaposition, she thought: dangerously short, with a bit of delicate lace at the neckline and all done in pristine ivory silk. Quite innocent, really. She wore it under her cloak as she made her way out the back door of the cottage and down to the shed where Tom Riddle was kept bound and under heavy wards.  
  
Luna had told the others that she was going to question him properly tonight, so it was best of they were left undisturbed; Bill had kindly made her take his wand with her just in case, which was useful. His wand always seemed to work better for her than the one she was given from the pile they’d pilfered when escaping the Malfoy Manor.  
  
The cold, dewy grass nipped at her bare feet and the sea breeze sent a chill up her legs. Twisting the handle on the door, she stepped inside the warmth of the shed. Riddle was sitting in the armchair against the far wall, his calves bound to the ornate wooden legs of the chair from his ankles to his knees. Magical ropes were twisted around his wrists as well. The book she had left him earlier was resting against his thigh and he turned a page without looking up at her.  
  
Leaning against one of the work benches, Luna commented, “That must be a good book.”  
  
“I’ve read better,” Tom muttered distractedly, his eyes not moving from the tome.  
  
It was very disappointing that he wouldn’t even spare her a glance, but she supposed that she had to get started somewhere.  
  
With a quick flick of Bill’s wand, his bound arms flew apart and tied themselves around the back of the chair, magical ropes twisting back around his wrists once more. His head snapped up, his jaw clenching and eyes seething. Setting the wand down on the work bench, she approached him slowly.  
  
“Did anyone ever tell you that it was rude not to look at someone when they’re speaking to you?” Luna tried to be firm, but her light, perpetually-wistful voice always seemed to have issues with demanding proper attention. She just had to make up for it with her actions, sharply tossing the book on his lap aside; it landed with a dull thud near his bed.  
  
“No one would dare,” he said lowly, his lips barely moving as he spoke.  
  
Untroubled by his usual imposing demeanor, Luna bent down over him and levelled her face with his, her hands resting against the arms of the chair. “You say that as if you’re able to do something about it,” she stated, reaching up to trace a finger down the side of his face. She knew that he would snap at her with his teeth – he would do anything to take back control – and she carefully avoided his attack by curling her delicate hand around his neck.  
  
That seemed to get his attention in the way she wanted and she applied just a little more pressure, frowning ever-so-slightly and staring at the plump veins in his throat. “I don’t want to have to bind _this_ with ropes as well, but I will if I have to.”  
  
“Go ahead.” His speech was a bit choked and she let go of his neck.  
  
One would think he was a masochist from the way he spoke at times.  
  
The corners of Luna’s mouth curled upward. “No. Only if you misbehave.”  
  
Tom smirked, an derisive huff of a laugh flaring his nostrils. “I thought you were against torture.”  
  
Backing away from the chair a step, she unclasped her cloak, letting it slip down her and pool at her feet. “Oh, I don’t plan on torturing you – not with pain.” She tugged at the nightgown that had ridden up her thighs under the cloak. “I find that _pleasure_ can be a much greater torment.”  
  
Tom’s eyes narrowed, unconvinced. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”  
  
“I never kid.” Luna’s languid grin widened and she straddled his lap, knees on either side of his thighs as she perched between his spread legs. Her hands grabbed at the centre of his button up shirt and tugged, ripping buttons and fabric till it was gaping open.  
  
His expression, when she looked back up at his face with her large silvery blue eyes, held the promise of a challenge, his jaw flexed and his brow raised. He was doubting her – possibly doubting that she would even do it, if she was reading him correctly.  
  
Well, she never backed down from a challenge.  
  
Her fingers sought out one of his nipples, tweaking it lightly between her fingers and scraping over it with her nails. “Not very sensitive there, are you?”  
  
With a mocking snort, Tom’s derisive smirk was back, answering her, but she remained undeterred.  
  
“That’s no matter,” she said, tracing lower – the tips of her nails walking her fingers down his stomach – to the edge of his trousers. Licking her lips, she palmed at him through the fabric, causing him to blink for a second too long and giving away that he wasn’t completely unaffected by it.  
  
Underneath her hand, she could feel him hardening and she cupped her hand along the outline as she stroked. “This is definitely a more sensitive part,” she said, her dreamy voice a little breathless. Her hand picked up its pace, stroking harder. She felt him twitch underneath her palm.  
  
Letting out a short breath through his teeth, Tom snarkily ground out, “ _Yes_ , who would have thought? If you’re playing dim to annoy me, it’s working.”  
  
“Dim is a word you use for light, not people.” Luna squeezed him a bit more tightly and removed her hand, climbing off of him to fetch Bill’s wand.  
  
Kneeling in front of him, she unbuttoned his trousers and yanked them open, pointing the wand at them.  
  
“ _Now_ you’ve decided to torture me?”  
  
She ignored his question, continuing.  
  
A simple snipping charm allowed her to tear the fabric away from him, revealing his cotton shorts. She grasped him through it, moving forward to breathe a hot breath of air over his hardness, pressing her lips against it and running her tongue along him through the fabric, sucking. Another snipping charm allowed her to rip his shorts neatly down the centre and she set the wand aside, just within her reach.  
  
He must have liked it in some way; his breathing started to pick up and he didn’t soften one bit – _perfect_.  
  
Her eyes widening just a fraction more, she stared at his exposed cock; it was standing straight up between his legs and the head was starting to peek through his foreskin. “Lovely,” she muttered, licking her hand and grasping him with it, stroking up and down his entire length. He took in a deep breath and she moved to her feet, not stopping her ministrations as she rested her other hand on the arm of the chair, levelling her face with his.  
  
If he had his eyes open, he would have had a nice view down the front of her nightgown – that was why she chose it for this. Boys seemed to like breasts a lot.  
  
Her thumb rubbed against that very sensitive spot below the head of his cock and his teeth gritted, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.  
  
Luna used her free hand, taking it off the arm of the chair, to gently smack his cheek. “Open your eyes, Tom Riddle,” she commanded, pleased that he complied for once.  
  
“Good-” she started, but he interrupted her  
  
“If you wanted to fuck me, you only had to ask, you loony bint,” he drawled, and she smacked the side of his face a little harder this time, pulling her hand back to rest against the arm of the chair so he couldn’t lash out at her with his teeth.  
  
He glared petulantly.  
  
“That isn’t my intention. Now, _this_ is how it’s going to go.” She had her hand wrapped even tighter around his cock than before and languidly stroked up and down the full length of him as she spoke, “I’m going to ask you a few questions and you’re going to give me the answers, okay?”  
  
“What if I don’t give you the answers?” Tom said through his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose.  
  
The muscles in his lower stomach shuddered and Luna shifted her hand’s focus to the tip of his cock, rubbing it between her palm and fingers, right against that sensitive spot. He let out a low, lustful sigh.  
  
“Oh, you like that?” She grinned, and replied, “You’ll see what’ll happen if I don’t get the answers,” moving down to her knees to lick along his length as she rubbed at the tip.  
  
Her other hand grasped his balls, massaging and weighing them with her fingers; he hissed in response. She could tell that he wasn’t near orgasm yet, but she’d have to pay close attention or this wasn’t going to work. He had to be close – so close that even a person like _him_ could beg.  
  
Wrapping her lips around him, she sucked down his length, swirling her tongue along the underside. She pulled back before he could trigger her gag reflex, lapping at the tip. Taking a breath, she lowered her head over him, sinking him into her mouth till he hit the back of her throat and sucking on the way up. She did it over and over and over again, swirling her tongue against him and sucking long and hard until he started to struggle, his breathing becoming laboured.  
  
Barely audible groans snuck past his lips.  
  
Luna brought her hand back to rub furiously at the head of his cock. It was slippery and wet with her saliva and she noticed a small droplet of precome collecting at the slit. Her other hand tested his balls, massaging and lightly squeezing, making his neck arch and his head loll back against the chair.  
  
She could feel him pulsing against her skin and she had to push past her own arousal that was starting to turn her brain all fuzzy.  
  
He was probably close enough.  
  
His arms were straining against his bindings and he was only just starting to shake.  
  
“How were you able to appear? How did you come into being?” she asked, stroking him more properly and bringing him to the edge, leaving him teetering there.  
  
But he wasn’t speaking, so she decided to make the questions simpler.  
  
“Did you use a time-turner?”  
  
“I’m not – I’m going to-” he unintelligibly panted through his breath, his voice thick and dark.  
  
Luna stopped stroking and brought her mouth over him, scraping the edges of her teeth lightly down his cock and gently squeezing the shaft of his cock between them when she felt the head hit the back of her throat. A loud, pained groan poured for his lips; air seething into his mouth as he gasped.  
  
He needed to be brought back away from the edge and she moved her mouth off him, just trailing her fingers along the underside. It was just enough, but not enough to make him soften too much.  
  
“That’s what happens when you don’t answer me,” she said, a dreamy grin pulling at her lips. Her hand wrapped around his cock and resumed its attention. She needed to build him up again.  
  
“Bitch,” he breathed through his gritted teeth.  
  
“Did you use a time-turner?” Luna repeated, staring up at him as she lowered her mouth to his head, sucking softly as she stroked.  
  
He was glaring at her, but his eyes were unfocused, dazed – his mind definitely full of Wrackspurts. She knew the look.  
  
“No.”  
  
She sucked a bit harder to reward him for the answer, humming around the tip of his cock and rubbing her tongue against that sensitive spot underneath the head. Her fingers were idly stroking his shaft below her mouth, pressing against the receptive veins.  
  
He was openly moaning now – she had gotten him past the point of holding back the noises he made, at least.  
  
_Merlin_ , she never expected to get so wet from doing this. Her skin was starting to blush, her knickers were moist, and it took a phenomenal amount of her self-control not to give in; to compartmentalize it and try to view it as a ‘study’ of sorts, like any good Ravenclaw would do in this situation.  
  
She pulled away from him, stroking fully and switching hands as she removed the flimsy nightgown that felt unnaturally warm against her skin. Moving forward, she used herself to stroke him, rubbing his cock between her naked breasts as she stared up at him. He was definitely close again, leaking precome and starting to twitch. She lightened her attention on his cock, keeping him _right there_ – so close that, with just a little more pressure or a bit of firm stroking, he would burst, but she wouldn’t give it to him just yet.  
  
“Was there a special ritual that you used to come into being?” she asked, her voice drifting between her shallow intakes of breath.  
  
Tom bit his lip hard and she backed away, using her hand to only stroke the tip – making it impossible for him to come. He snarled, trying to buck himself into her hand, but the bindings on his legs wouldn’t let him.  
  
“Answer me.”  
  
“No, I didn’t,” he panted, his jaw clenched and his lips parted. His shoulders twisted against his bound arms.  
  
“You want to come, don’t you?” Luna teased, stroking just once – hard and slow down his length, pulling back the foreskin, squeezing the base of his cock. Precome collected at the head.  
  
He let out a long breath – his strained and sibilant response travelling with it, “ _Yes_.”  
  
He was so so _very_ needy.  
  
Moving her hand back up to the tip, she resumed her vigorous rubbing, asking, “Were you a horcrux?”  
  
Luna’s brows rose when a low whimper rose from his throat, jagged breaths passing through his nearly trembling lips.  
  
“Fine. Yes,” he answered finally. It was barely audible, hidden under a breathy moan, but she caught it.  
  
More honey – less vinegar; she was right. Why didn’t Hermione ever think of doing this?  
  
Not letting up on the movement of her hand at tip of his cock, she slid into his lap, straddling and perching herself between his legs. She stroked his swollen head against her quim, the soft satin of her knickers making it easy to rub herself along the underside, grinding her cloth-covered opening over the very tip of his cock.  
  
“Good boy,” she complimented, swirling and rocking her hips down against him. “Feel that? That’s my cunt.” She always got bit of a rush saying dirty words aloud. “It would be all too easy to slide my knickers aside and bury your cock _deep_ inside me.”  
  
“Do it,” he said breathlessly. He was squirming, trying to move himself against her – trying to get inside her, to no avail. He was too tied down to move enough for him to be satisfied.  
  
Luna reached down to pull the crotch of her knickers to the side, but partially – letting the elastic catch down the middle of her slit. She allowed him to feel the wetness and heat of her cunt against the head of his cock. A groan built in the back of his throat.  
  
“Which horcrux were you?” she asked, stroking him with one hand and pressing him just barely inside her, not even the full head – her knickers were too in the way for it; only a teasing dip into her to make him desperate.  
  
“The bloody snake,” he growled, his expression filled with furious lust and angry need, “now slide yourself down my aching cock and let me come, you loony little wench.”  
  
“ _Just_ an inch – only the tip,” Luna musically intoned, slipping her knickers all the way aside and burying the first inch of his cock into her throbbing cunt, stretching around him. She kept herself straddled over his lap, gripping the base of his member to control just how much of him went inside her. She swirled and rocked her hips, just over the tip.  
  
It felt _so_ **_good_**.  
  
“ _More_ ,” he ground out, biting his lower lip hard, his body thrashing as much as it could beneath her.  
  
Using her free hand to touch her tender, neglected clit, she asked, “How could you have come from the snake? Who died to let you live?”  
  
Tom practically roared and she slid down him fully - encasing him in her tightness - before pulling back and grinding herself just around the tip of his cock. It was rubbing right up against that sensitive spot inside her, making her moan with him.  
  
“Answer me,” she breathlessly ordered, her usual light and dreamy voice darkening with arousal. “I can come like this, but I know you can’t.” She clenched around him, increasing the pressure against that spot.  
  
A hiss of breath slithered between his teeth, trailing off with a moan.  
  
“How could you have come from the snake horcrux? Who died?”  
  
“Nagini was killed.” Tom’s eyes widened a little bit and she grinned at him, knowing he could feel – and _see_ – her come starting to drip down the shaft of his cock.  
  
Merlin, she was getting close.  
  
But she had more questions, and she had to get them out before she got too close because, when that happened, she knew she wouldn’t be able to control herself.  
  
“After she was killed-” she moaned, sinking down on him another inch to allow for better contact, grinding the head of his cock against her ever-tightening walls “-you were apparated away from Godric’s Hallow?”  
  
“Must’ve been,” he panted unevenly, his Adam’s apple bobbing.  
  
“Are you a spy for the Dark Lord?” she probed further, hurriedly, unable to keep herself from writhing against him uncontrollably. That was her last question. Her fingers rubbed frantically at her clit.  
  
“I _am_ the Dark Lord,” he growled, his features strained. His dark eyes were staring straight at her, practically begging. A tremble rolled across his skin as he whispered through his teeth, “ _Now **please** …_”  
  
It was the way he said it – so filled with need – that made her tip over the edge, coming violently around him. Her back arched and she clenched tight, gripping him as she ground down on him deeply and fully, stretching herself over him completely. She bucked; every nerve in her body was tingling with pleasure, from her throbbing cunt to the tips of her fingers and toes. Her fingers were still working over her clit as she fucked him roughly, prolonging her own orgasm. The chair below them wobbled and squeaked with every movement.  
  
Apparently, he was closer than she thought and she finally allowed it, grinding and pounding herself down onto his cock. His muscles pulled taught beneath her and he stilled, throwing his head back, squeezing his eyes shut – spilling inside her with a husky groan. Clenching herself around him, she slid up and down, making sure to milk every drop from him; not stopping until she knew he was finished.  
  
He looked much more handsome like this, all relaxed and sated. It was almost as if he was asleep.  
  
A bead of sweat trailed down the side of his face and she collected it on her finger, sticking it in her mouth and grinning satisfactorily around it. She started to feel him soften and she pulled away, letting his cock lazily slip from her.  
  
“That was fun,” she said quietly once she got her breathing back under control, a light smile still pressing across her face.  
  
Tom’s eyes snapped open and he glared at her tiredly. “You're insane,” he muttered, his voice heavy and rough. The Wrackspurts were starting to crawl back out of his ears, moving up the sides of his face.  
  
Tilting her head, Luna vaguely replied, “Perhaps.” She then paused, softly blinking and straightening her back. “I think we should do this again sometime,” she said, her voice elated.  
  
His brow arched. “ _More_ questioning? I don’t think so,” he intoned sneeringly as she climbed off of him with shaky legs, righting her knickers and ignoring the stickiness between her thighs.  
  
“No, not questioning.” She shook her head, bringing her hands up to her breasts to wipe the sweat away from underneath them. “I believe you answered all I wanted – I was referring to the sex. It was lovely.” Using her toes, she plucked Fleur’s nightgown from the floor.  
  
“You’re not going to be able to catch me by surprise like that again,” Tom warned, his tone threatening. “I’ll make sure of it; I _will_ get you back for this.”  
  
“Okay. Maybe tomorrow,” Luna responded tranquilly, pulling the nightgown over her head and tugging it down. It clung to her skin a bit. “I’ll go get you a glass of water and come back to put you to bed, alright?”  
  
He mumbled something under his breath and she could only guess that it was some sort of insult; he really enjoyed insulting people, it seemed, but she didn’t mind being called ‘loony’ or ‘mad’ or anything of the sort. They were words often used by those who didn’t understand. A product of stubborn ignorance.  
  
Luna draped her cloak over her arm and grabbed Bill’s wand before exiting the shed. The cool night air felt pleasant on her flushed skin as she made her way back to the cottage.  
  
Harry was the only one in the kitchen and, the moment she walked through the door, he coughed, tea flying out of his mouth and all over the kitchen table. “You questioned him wearing _that?_ ” he spluttered, his eyes goggling in her direction.  
  
“Well, technically, I questioned him wearing less than this,” she corrected with a vague shrug, going over to the cupboard to pull out two glasses and filling them with water.  
  
“What? _Less_ than – you’re joking!”  
  
It was endearing how Harry always seemed to find her a bit funny.  
  
“Did you – _er_ – get anything out of him then?” he continued when she didn’t answer, her ponderings getting in the way inside her head.  
  
“Oh, _plenty_.” Luna turned around to look at him and leaned back against the counter, a cheerful grin ghosting over her lips. “It turns out that he was a horcrux – the snake, he said. Hermione must have killed it when you were in Godric’s Hallow because Nagini died, and that must have fulfilled the horcrux’s need to allow him to form. And, when Hermione apparated you both out of Bathilda Bagshot’s home, she must have taken him with.”  
  
It was only logical. All of his answers fit together so perfectly.  
  
Harry’s brows furrowed. “Why didn’t she notice him when she apparated then? I mean, I was poisoned, so I don’t remember…”  
  
“Yes, _precisely_ – you were poisoned!” she happily replied, her eyes growing more rounder than normal. “Don’t you see, Harry? She was too worried about you dying to be paying proper attention to anything else. Hermione’s very caring like that; she probably didn’t notice Tom was there, and he was left in the snow until you two found him the next day. Or was it the day _after_ that?”  
  
“Right…” His lips pursed and he took a sip from his tea, his eyes trailing over the nightgown. “So-erm… how, _exactly_ , did you get him to…? He never… I mean, we couldn’t…”  
  
“I did it how I said I was going to – you know the expression? ‘You can catch more flies with honey than vinegar’? You and Hermione and Ron used too much vinegar, not enough honey. I believe I provided him with the right balance.”  
  
Harry’s lips parted and his forehead creased in bewilderment. “What’s _that_ supposed to mean?”  
  
Luna’s brows rose. Usually, Harry was much more clever than Ron, but she supposed she’d have to put it bluntly. He just wasn’t getting it.  
  
“I fucked him.”  
  
Tea flew from Harry’s mouth again, straight across the kitchen table and nearly catching the edge of Luna’s nightgown. He might have had a Blibbering Humdinger stuck in his throat – he kept doing that a lot.  
  
Harry choked, coughing, “You – er… _you- Him? **Riddle?**_ ”  
  
“Yes. He wasn’t keen at first – he thought I was going to torture him, actually – but he was very eager after some convincing,” she explained with a small triumphant smile, taking a drink from one of the glasses and grasping the other. “I should go put him to bed; he’s probably awfully tired. And thirsty. I certainly am.”  
  
She set her own water glass back down on the counter, picked up Bill’s wand, and left out the door, leaving Harry gawking in her wake.  
  
“You alright, mate?” Ron asked, possibly minutes later, as he walked into the kitchen to dig through the cupboards for a late night snack. “You look like you’ve just seen the Bloody Barron.”  
  
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…”

**_.^._.^._.^._**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
>  **Original Prompt:** An interrogation, where a female interrogator has to basically fuck the information out of the interrogatee. Tom Riddle/Luna Lovegood.


End file.
